A Game of Blood and Fire (Sequel to Game of Salt and Oak)-Discontinued
by TaylaWrites
Summary: They started as companions, raised alongside one another in the hopes of becoming great. One heir to the north, one a prisoner of war, and the other the last of her line. Robb Stark, Theon Greyjoy, and Elyssia Thorne were victims of a game they couldn't play. But things have changed. Friendships have broken. And their very lives rest on the edge. -AU- -Continued in Winter Reigns-
1. Hellholt -1-

_Elyssia Thorne_

"I hope you know you've made the correct choice, Lady Thorne. It won't be long before we can send you home to your uncle. He's asked after you several times you know. I've assured him that you are perfectly safe under our care" Herman Uller said, fanning himself to fight off the smoldering heat.

"I sincerely hope you wrote to that Greyjoy boy as well. It would be best if you forgot all idle thoughts of the north and focused on your home here in Dorne" Lady Uller nodded her agreement. The woman had been treating Elyssia as a handmaiden for several days, starting just after Elyssia signed and sealed her letter to Theon.

Elyssia refused to respond, sitting tensely in the cushioned seat she'd been assigned to. The Ullers were throwing a festival in order to commemorate some holiday or another that was approaching in the coming weeks. As their prisoner, Elyssia had been forced to attend. It just wouldn't do for the Uller's smallfolk to see their princes being held hostage, so both Martell men were also in attendance as the Uller's watched a parade thrown in the honor of a saint.

"I'm sure Lady Elyssia is very pleased that you've held a knife to her throat and forced her to sign away her title" Oberyn Martell took a long sip of his wine, evenly meeting the furious expression of Lord Uller.

"Lady Thorne is an heiress of Dorne. She has no need for petty titles in Tyrell lands.

"Heir to a city that she knows nothing of. Sandshrine was meant for Lady Laskly's daughters. Not her grandchild by a traitor." The prince of Dorne shot back, ignoring the raised eyebrow from his nephew.

"Alavane Thorne helped overthrow the Dragon Kings." Lady Uller said, opening a silk fan to try to relieve some of the heat.

"And then tried to toss the Baratheon's out too. I see no difference. Traitor to one king, traitor to all" Oberyn shrugged. "Are you not a true son of Dorne? My sister died the day they marched into King's Landing and slaughtered hundreds. I wasn't aware you flew the crowned stag. I'll make sure to inform my brother."

"You'll never see Sunspear again with an attitude like that" Lady Uller said nastily. "Guards. Please escort Prince Oberyn to his quarters. I believe the viper has grown ill from the sun.

Both Quentyn and Elyssia watched in a tense silence as Oberyn was lead from his seat. The Red Viper was scowling brutally, causing more than a few cringing expressions among the guards. The Ullers turned in their seats to return to the parade, clearly enjoying themselves as their children oo'd and awe'd over the colors and music.

"My father won't stand for this" Quentyn whispered quietly into Elyssia's ear. "I'm sure he'll be here soon to rescue us and arrest the Ullers"

Elyssia wasn't so sure. They'd been held captive in the castle for nearly a month as far as she could tell. The warden of Dorne had been given plenty of time to reclaim his brother and son from a rebel castle. Instead they'd heard rumors of the great feast Doran Martell had been planning for the very holiday the Ullers were throwing the parade for.

"Prince Quentyn, Lady Elyssia" Lord Uller's expresion had soured as he stared at something in the distance. "You are both excused. Do not leave your quarters until a member of our household guard comes to escort you. Go. Now"

Elyssia was jerked to her feet by a hefty man in full armor. She barely had time to protest as he shoved her, and Quentyn along with her, into the small room just off the balcony. The cheers of the crowd continued to echo as they walked down the narrow hallway that lead further into the castle. Both guards were looking grim as they turned the corner.

The commotion happened quickly, leaving her no time to scream as both guards fell crashing to the floor. They'd been struck over the head by the two other guards, both dressed in full armor with the sigil of House Uller painted on their shields and breast plates. Neither man spoke as they turned to Quentyn, bowing low to the Dornish prince.

"Thank you" Quentyn said, shrugging off the thick robe he'd been dressed in for the parade. Underneath he wore a simple embroidered overshirt, tied at the waist with a leather belt. He took the brilliantly gold sash from the festival robe and tied it over his shoulders. Elyssia stood, stunned, as the prince revealed a dagger's sheath hidden in the sash. "I missed my chance to slay him. He seated Elyssia between himself, Uncle Oberyn, and I. There was no time to remove her from his grasp and kill him"

"Forgive us, my prince. Several guardsmen had to be cut down on our way here. We did our best to leave them alive, as Prince Doran requested, but they resisted..." One of the guardsmen did not rise from his bow as Quentyn brushed past them.

"No matter. They chose the wrong household to serve" Quentyn waved a hand in dismissal. "Lady Elyssia, come"

When she did not respond, Quentyn grabbed her hand, pulling her down the hallway at a quickened pace. The prince seemed to have the route through the maze of hallways, stairwells, and seemingly empty rooms memorized as he puled her throughout them. The palace should have been crawling with armed guards, but they met none as they hastened their way to the ground floor.

"Quen...Excuse me. Prince Quentyn, what is going on!" Elyssia hissed as they reached a small entrance hall on the bottom floor of the Uller's castle. The room was filled with guards, all of whom seemed unaffected by the appearance of the two hostages. One handed Quentyn a short sword and it's sheath, which he promptly tied around his waist.

"My father is at the gates" Quentyn said, the expression in his eyes told her that the assault had been planned for weeks, maybe since the day they'd arrived in the forsaken city. "My uncle has ridden to the south gate with a patrol of my father's men. You and I will ride for the north gate to meet his forces and head to Sunspear. My Uncle will take Hellholt, arrest the Ullers, and then return with them to face my father's justice. Now. Do you prefer a sword, a dagger, or a bow?"

"I...you." Elyssia thought back to what he'd said on the balcony. Then it had seemed as if his head were firmly nestled in clouds of dreamwine. Now it was obvious that he'd been warning her of the escape. A note she'd missed in her judgment. "You could have told me! I wouldn't have embarrassed myself trying to appease Lady Uller!"

"Acting as her servant is hardly as embarrassing as being forced to sit and wait patiently for your father to come fetch you from an enemy castle" Quentyn said matter-of-factly. "Now I'll ask again. Sword, Dagger, or Bow?"

"A bow" Elyssia answered, clearly stung by his remark. One of the guardsmen stepped forward, handing her a hunting bow and a full quiver. "Where are we going?"

"To the stables to get a horse. My Uncle should be halfway across the city by now" Quentyn smiled, a near smirk that hinted his amusement at the situation. "Welcome to Dorne, my lady. Now. Let us make our escape."


	2. The Saltwater Court -2-

Theon Greyjoy

Theon sat rigidly in the hard backed chair, his fingers clenching around the arm rests. Beside him, Balon Greyjoy was making some sort of speech, wearing a crown made of polished driftwood and adorned with pearls and other such jewels of the sea. His father stood tall and proud, easy in his command of the various lords that stood in the throne room. Theon felt like a snail next to his boot.

The source of his distress stood less than five yards away, regally stationed next to her sister and brother-in-law. Lady Miranda and Lord Thorne were standing tall and proud, both wearing icy smiles. The young woman however looked sour despite the easy smile on her face. Whereas Miranda Morray was blonde and comely, her sister Asamyn was dark haired and pale. Her dark eyes were an uncommon reminder of just how close House Morray's lands were to Dorne. No doubt a dornish ancestor had given her those dark, nearly black eyes and her curly black hair falling neatly to her waist. It was clear Miranda had been gifted with the "look" of most Southern women. Blonde, petite, pretty blue eyes that echoed the Crownland's nobility. Asamyn was much younger than her sister, and would be pretty had she been graced with the same warm, sun kissed skin of her sister. She appeared to be pleased with the current situation, almost ecstatic really. Theon could almost see the ambition forming a light aura around her.

"It shall be so" The statement from his father caught Theon's attention."Let it be known that today the Houses of Greyjoy, Thorne, and Morray make a pact, a marriage bond, that will bind them together. As my son, Theon Greyjoy, heir to Pyke and the Iron Isles, warden of the King, Balon Greyjoy first of his name, my son, first of his name, and Asamyn Morray, sister by marriage to Lord Alavane Thorne, blood daughter of Lord Carmen Morray, heiress to the hold of Summerset, and first of her name, are bound in betrothal. Set to be wed at a later date in the Heiress Isles belonging to Lord Morray and his kin. May the Drowned God, and the Seven Who Are One, bless this pact and allow our houses to become one"

Theon swallowed hard as his uncle and a septon stepped forward. Both were symbols of faith, giving human form to the god's they counted on to protect and guide them. To Theon they were the shackles and key, binding him to a woman he knew nothing of. Tearing him apart from a woman he had loved since childhood. He desperately wished he'd turned Robb's proposal down and gone to Dorne with Elyssia. At least then he would be with her, even if the two of them were lost in a land they knew nothing about. Now she was all alone, stranded in sand and he was here in Pyke, about to be trapped in a plot he'd never wanted anything to do with.

"The Drowned God accepts this proposal. And gives the blessing of his brine" Aeron Greyjoy looked up at his brother with cold eyes, holding a pot of hot seawater in his hands. It seemed the Damphair was displeased with his brother, though as a member of the priesthood it was not his place to speak against it.

The Septon gave his own blessing quicker. The man was from Lord Thorne's lands, as the seven were not worshiped on the Isles, nor was the faith welcome in most houses. Balon Greyjoy was tolerant of them only because of his status. Septons and Septas often accompanied dignitaries and diplomats from southern houses, especially those from the Reach and the Crownlands. He spoke quietly in a monotone, clearly showing his displeasure with the situation. "The Seven Who Are One give blessing to this pact, and wish for it to be honored in their name" He held a bowl of holy water, thrice blessed in the citadel before being sent to Elderbridge.

A thick silence fell over the group, leaving the crowd to begin speaking in hushed whispers. It would be customary for a priest of the Drowned God to give the last rite of the ceremony. But Aeron Greyjoy kept quiet, holding his brine and staring coldly at his brother. "Let them stand together, in honor of the bond they will soon share" The Septon said in a throaty voice once it was clear Aeron would not speak the last rite. He made a slight hand motion, waving both Theon and Asamyn toward him.

Theon stood stiffly, the movement taking all his will power to numbly take the carpeted stone steps. It was he who joined the Septon and his uncle first, both of them standing stiffly across from one another, holding the tools of their blessing. Asamyn's approach lacked any of Theon's reluctance, instead she ascended the steps gracefully and quickly, her steps just barely making a slight click against the stone. She smiled wider as the Septon and Aeron Greyjoy exchanged nods.

"Theon Greyjoy, you are a son of King Balon Greyjoy, king of the Iron Isles and all of Westeros. In time you will be his heir, destined to care for his people and his throne. In honor of the names who stand behind you..." the Damphair cast a glance at Balon. "Your father, Balon Greyjoy, King of the Iron Isles and Westeros, Lord of Pyke, Warden of the Isles, first of his name. Your mother, Queen Alannys Grejoy, daughter of Lord Harlow, Lady of Pyke, Queen of the Iron Isles, first of her name. Your sister, Princess Asha Greyjoy, betrothed of Lord Tristopher Botley, soon to be Lady of his lands, first of her name, and the Lords of the Iron Isles, faithful in their service to their king. I, Aeron Greyjoy, as a priest of the Drowned God, bless your betrothal and give you his blessing."

"As do I" The septon said.

Both priests lifted ladles full of their blessing and without ceremony, poured them over Theon's outstretched hands. His skin crawled at the sensation of boiling salt water an the icy coolness of the holy water. The combined liquids fell to the ground, pooling around his feet. The priests turned to Asamyn, whom was still looking as thrilled as ever.

"Asamyn Morray. You are a daughter of Lord Carmen Morray. Heiress to his lands. Servant to House Thorne. In time your children will rule Summerset and it's lands as well as Pyke and the Iron Isles. In honor of the names who stand behind you; your father, Carmen Morray, Lord of Summerset, faithful servant to Elderbridge. Your mother; Edania Morray. Daughter of House Barton, Lady of Summerset, and faithful servant to Elderbridge. Your sister; Miranda Thorne, daughter of Lord Carmen, whose children will rule Elderbridge. Loyal Servant to King Balon. Your brother; Lord Alavane Thorne, Lord of Elderbridge and it's holdings, Son of Adamian Thorne. Loyal Servant of King Balon. Your neice; Lady Elyssia Thorne-" Theon watched as Alavane's eyes flared wide and Miranda's narrowed. The septon didn't seem to notice as he continued. "Daughter of Lord Alavane Thorne and Lady Lucine Tarly. Heir to the houses of Thorne and Dayne. Lady of Starfall and Elderbridge. I, Septon Cleary, as a priest of the Seven Who Are One, give their blessing to this pact, bless your betrothal and bestow their favor upon you."

The sourness never left Lord and Lady Thorne's faces as the Septon and Aeron Greyjoy poured their mixture over Asamyn's hands. She flexed her fingers as it poured over them, the heat leaving bright red patches and the coolness soothing them away. Asamyn smiled at Theon, her expression unreadable besides the blatant delight. Both priests stepped away, their blessings in hand.

"It is so" The Septon began.

"It is so" Aeron's deep voice finalized the rite.

A silence fell over the parties, tense and heavy as they took in what had just happened. Despair was filling Theon's heart as the displeasure on Alavane Thorne's face vanished and was replaced by cool confidence.

"Now that this rite has been preformed, I believe this news will interest you" Lord Thorne smiled, removing a piece of folded parchment from inside his clothing. He opened it pointedly, clearing his throat. "It's a letter of release from Lady Elyssia Thorne. She has relinquished her claims to Elderbridge in favor of being the new Lady of Sunspear"

"Sunspear?" Balon Greyjoy seemed surprised. "You mean to tell me your child fled to Dorne? Not Highgarden?"

"Seems she learned of her mother's birthright and fled to Starfall. Lord Dayne has pronounced her his heir." Lady Miranda smiled just as easily as her husband.

"But Lady of Sunspear? That would mean a marriage will take place. Between a Prince of Dorne and herself. Unless Doran Martell's daughter has taken a mind of her own."

"It is all here in this letter" Lord Alavane waved the parchment, handing it to Balon. "Addressed to Lord Theon"

"I see" Balon scanned the paper. "Theon, I believe we have some things to discuss later. Though due to this I have no choice but to allow you to legitimize your son. By my name Ethan Rivers will be legitimized and named Ethan Thorne and shall be given his title as heir to your hold by the end of the day."

"That will not be necessary" Lady Miranda cut in, her eyes sinister. "I carry Lord Thorne's heir here" Her hand fell to her stomach. "Our child will be his heir, not that bastard."

Theon watched as his father's eyes hardened. "I believe you misunderstand, Lady Miranda. Lord Alavane and I have a prior agreement. Ethan Flowers will be given the name of Thorne and sent here to be ward under mine and my wife's care. He will be the heir to Elderbridge or there will be no heir and the children of my son will take Elderbridge." He said, his voice deep and final. "The absence of Elyissa Thorne and this letter are not proof of her denouncing her birth claim"

"The letter is signed-" Lady Miranda was cut off by a stern glare.

"Theon, you knew Lady Elyssia well. Is the letter written in her penmanship?" Balon handed Theon the letter.

Theon looked over the parchment. The majority was written in Elyssia's smooth script. But the signature was far too sloppy and illegible to be Eyssia's.

"The letter is written in her hand. But the signature is not hers" Theon said, handing the paper back.

"Seems it is a forgery" Balon's eyes rested on Miranda in suspicion. "Therefore I will consider Elyssia Thorne the heir until otherwise. Until then I will legitimize Ethan Rivers and he will become a ward here in Pyke. Court dismissed"


	3. Lady of Winter -3-

_Robb Stark_

The air was thick and heavy, filled with the smells of roasting meat and ale. Not a single man from the North's forces had forgone the drinking games and competitions to see who could eat the most, belch the loudest, or guzzle the most mead before they collapsed. Even the Rivelords and their men had joined in on the festivity, despite many of them insisting there must be at least one sober army should a force attack in the night. Most didn't seem to care. Jamie Lannister had been captured by the young wolf, and an event as such was one to celebrate.

Robb himself was seated at the high table. To his right, his uncle sat tall and stern. Edmere Tully had never been the most cheerful of men. Were it not for Robb's attendance he probably would have locked himself in his quarters, or gone out hunting Lannisters. Robb still remembered his promise to the Blackfish, and had done everything he could to keep his uncle in one place It was clear Edmere was not amused.

Lady Catelyn had been persuaded to attend as well, and continued to be as such as she sat next to Jeyne at the high table. She'd been icy and cold for weeks, often ignoring Robb for days before sparing him only a few words. It wasn't much of a stretch for Robb to see that she was angry with him for all his plotting. And in the mean time Catelyn hadn't forgiven him for vanishing into the riverlands and returned with Jeyne. He barely tolerated the girl now, but it hadn't mattered to his mother. Honor was not an acceptable reason for marriage for her. Seeing as Jon was born of his father's dishonor to her it was a bitter surprise that she was not proud of him for taking it upon himself to save Jeyne and any wife he might have in the future the pain of a bastard child. It was too much to wish for it seemed, as Lady Catelyn continued to stand firm and outcasted his new wife as often as she could. Tonight was no different.

"I don't see how you can feast after the letters you received today" Catelyn said, her voice aloft as she looked out over the crowded mead hall.

"Mother please" Robb sighed outloud. Jeyne gave him a sympathetic glance and touched his arm.

"Your friends are in danger, Robb. Theon is about to be married to your enemy, and the girl is trapped in Dorne. The pieces of your strategy cannot be effective if they cannot move. It is pitiful to think you believe that just the Riverlands and the North can conquer a kingdom. Even Robert knew he must win the majority of the seven kingdoms before marching toward the Crownlands. Should Theon turn on his father now he'd be executed. And marrying Asamyn Morray will only pull him tighter to Balon, and to the man that wants Elyssia dead." His mother's voice fell quietly over the men and women at the high table. Lady Mormont made a distinct choice in clearing her throat. It wasn't a surprise that the Lady of Bear island was fond of Elyssia, and hated the idea of leaving her to Dorne's mercy. "Elyssia is captured by the Ullers, facing death and relinquishing her claims to Elderbridge in favor of a meager one in Starfall. Elderbridge may not be the Reach, nor is it Highgarden, but a marriage between Elyssia and a lord of Highgarden surely would not have hurt your standing."

"She could still marry-" Robb began.

"Marry whom? Oberyn Martell?" Catelyn scoffed. "Please do not shame me by being foolish enough to believe the Viper would fancy himself a girl of the Reach. Especially not one that was raised in Winterfell and still cannot defend herself past the use of a hunting bow. And Quentyn Martell is no heir to his father, even if he is the only son. She would do better to carry the favor of his sister. But the Ullers will be sure she has nothing to speak of in claims of the Reach to barter with."

Robb grit his teeth together. It was true, sending Elyssia to Dorne was his own mistake. She would have been much more efficient in Highgarden. But that would have meant risking her life even further should Highgarden turn to the Crownlands defense. So far Mace Tyrell had avoided taking sides, as the war seemed to be between the Lannisters and the Starks. But he knew he'd ran the risk of the roses turning sides the moment he stepped into the Riverlands. With still no word from his aunt in the Vale, Robb was running thin on those he could count on for help.

"What do you expect of me, Mother?" He said in a low voice. "I cannot march into Dorne to free Elyssia. Or demand Theon be released from his betrothal. Nor can I barter with the Ullers. Doran Martell is Elyssia's only hope. And Theon shall have to give his claim to his sister to avoid marrying Asamyn Morray and pray that his father allows her to marry into that family in his stead"

"There are things even you can do, Robb" Catelyn turned her cold eyes on him. "Have you not thought of Oberyn Martell's letter? Reaching out to Doran Martell for Elyssia's safety would not be a foolish choice. Claiming to release your ties to her, especially to the Ullers, might prompt them to release her sooner. They forced her to write to you did they not? Send a raven in return, baring news to Elyssia Thorne that you cut her loose from your behest. She might live at the very least. And be alive should you ever need a hand from Dorne to reach for."

Robb's temper was rising. He'd heard enough from his mother about Jeyne in the passing weeks, the burn of her criticizing his choices dealing with Elyssia and Theon were too much to bear. He'd been angry with the two of them in any case. Elyssia for stopping her contact with him, and Theon for allowing the marriage that might ruin his attachment to Robb. And then there was the letter from Elyssia he'd received the evening before. He could no longer count her as a friend, or even a mutual Ally.

"I'm not speaking with you on this Mother-" Robb was cut off as Lady Catelyn stood.

"You don't need to" She said quietly. "If you'll excuse me, I believe it's time I returned to Winterfell. Your brother's need me"


	4. The Princess of Dorne -4-

Elyssia Thorne

The horse was a beautiful black stallion, pure bred from generations of racing horses. It wore shoes accustomed to travel over shifting sands, durable enough to survive the packed dirt roads of Dorne. A carved sign above it's stall spelled out it's name in finely carved letters. _Srana._ It had been still as water as Quentyn saddled it, and then when he helped her climb up on it's back.

Srana was a prize the men of Doran Martell's army were thrilled with. They took turns brushing his coat, straightening the saddle, and talking in loud voices about the horses's perfect breeding. They didn't seem to mind Elyssia's presence as they looked over the creature idly. One man told her it's name was some word in an old tongue for the sand spirits many believed to rest in the shallow floors of the ocean. He'd pointed toward the ocean, or at least the river that lead into it. She found herself watching the horizon of that river as she waited for Quentyn returned.

When he'd finally returned, it was with a group of men in full armor. They were carrying a litter made of fine silk, the curtains drawn to keep out the light. It must have been unbearably hot inside the fabric, no matter how thin and airy it was. The men set the litter down on legs meant to hold it upright.

"Lady Elyssia" Quentyn said. "Allow me to introduce the leader of my father's forces. Arianne Martell. My sister"

The curtain of the litter was pulled back to reveal a young woman, not much older than Quentyn. She wore a tunic of silk, the color of a red sun over a blue ocean, decorated with small beads. The woman was imposing in a toxic way, giving the distinct feeling that she would eagerly slit your throat just as soon as she would kiss your cheek. Elyssia felt the desire to move away from her as the Princess of Dorne's cold brown eyes fell on her.

"Elyssia Thorne" Arianne smiled. Elyssia thought quickly that she resembled her brother in that way. Though Quentyn's smiles were genuine while Arianne's were laced with poison. "I see you've managed to make your escape with my brother"

"It was more his escape than mine, My lady" Elyssia answered. She was dying under the thick festival dress, and the heat from the Princess's eyes wasn't any better.

"So I hear" Arianne nodded. "Regardless I welcome you as I wish I could have welcomed you in Sunspear without all this nonsense" She waved a hand toward the walls of Hellholt in the distance. "My Uncle tells me you're fond of Shadowcats. Brilliant creatures I think, to be able to survive regardless of those who want to exterminate them. When my Uncle told me of you, that you reminded him of one of them, I was doubtful a little Tyrell flower could ever be as brave and crafty as a Shadowcat." Her eyes held a sinister gleam to them as she spoke. "I hope you shall prove me wrong"

"As do I, Princess" Elyssia said. "Please trust me when I say I would rather live a shadowcat than die a pretty flower"

Arianne smiled. "We're riding for Sunspear immediately. I believe we'll see sign of my uncle before the sun sets. He intends to put Hellholt castle to the torch, and I wish to watch it burn." She slipped from the litter. "I hear you've brought a pretty horse back with you, Quentyn. I brought your own horse from Sunspear, however it will suit Lady Elyssia I think" She turned her eyes on Elyssia again. "Come with me. That dress is hideous and you'll faint before we're half a day from Hellholt.

Elyssia followed as Arianne lead the guards to a small group of horses in the center of the temporary encampment. The litter was sat down, standing on it's legs once more. Arianne dug into the saddle bag of a large white horse, emerging with a bundle of orange silk. She handed it to Elyssia, nodding toward the litter.

"The color of a sunset." Arianne said as she stepped inside. "I believe it will suit you"

Elyssia dressed quickly, pulling off the hot, heavy fabric and pulling the new dress over her head. It was made of fine silk, dyed all colors of a sunset ranging from orange to pink. The dress slipped easily down her form, light and airy. She stepped out of the litter to the admiring eye of Arianne.

The princess looked over her once, smiling again.

"I think you'll do just fine here.


	5. Balon's Plot -5-

Theon Greyjoy

Balon Greyjoy wasn't the studious type. He'd never been one for books and manuscripts, and the only reading material that decorated his desk were reports on raids and letters from the Iron Born lords trying to get his favor. Regardless of that, he was still a lord of one of the Great Houses, and still technically a warden of the iron isles, and thus he kept a neat study at the top of one of his keeps towers.

It was simple in tastes, a small room at the top of the western tower, overlooking the port's market stalls and a temple of the Drowned God. There was a well-built bookshelf against the back wall, filled with various tomes on sea-faring, ship building, and politics, as well as a few stories of myth and a detailed account of the many houses of Westeros. His Maester kept a set of seven massive scrolls in a wooden box, shielded from the sunlight against the desk. In it were elaborate family trees of many of the more notable houses in the seven kingdoms. Most of the decor was in truth merely spoils of the raids Balon had lead in his youth. A gilded mirror from the Reach. A well-polished dagger of Valyrian steel that glowed in the light. A fine set of ironwood shields from Ned Stark's northern lords. There was even a staff etched with runes of the old tongue that hung in a special setting above the fireplace.

The various trophies were exceedingly interesting to Theon, but he found it hard to look away from his father as he sat at the desk. Balon was holding a scroll of thick parchment in front of him, apparently immersed in it. Beside him sat the letter Lord Thorne had presented, signed with a false signature in his attempt to win legitimacy for his bastard son. Balon had seemed merely amused at the presentation of such a clear forgery, though Theon had no doubt that rage was boiling under his skin.

"Tell me about this Thorne girl" Balon finally spoke, his gaze fixed on the scroll. "She was a prisoner of war under Ned Stark was she not?"

"Yes, Father" Theon said, his mind racing for any reasoning as to why his father would suddenly be interested in Elyssia.

"As I said," Balon fixed Theon with a sharp look. "Her temperament? Manners? Position on Robert Baratheon, views on the Starks, feelings on captivity. I want to know it all, Theon"

"If I might ask, sir..why the sudden interest in Elyssia." Theon said, testing the waters to see just how angry his father was. "And why go through me? Surely you could ask the Maester. He keeps records on all the noble houses."

"He does. He brought me this scroll this morning. But this details her name, appearance, rhe education she was given. No details on her personality. Nothing about her skills." Balon said, laying down the parchment scroll. Theon caught site of thick, Maester's ink. Red, blue, and black lines. A family tree, probably of the Thornes. "I can gather that her family can be traced to both the Reach and Dorne. Her mother was the eldest daughter of Damyan Laskley. Her father is descended from various blood lines of the Reach and the Vale. She is distantly related to House Martell from a time before the Dragon Kings conquered Westeros. Despite this I cannot see why Alavane Thorne is so incredibly scared of Elyssia Thorne."

"Scared, Father?" Theon questioned. He couldn't understand why his father had suddenly delved so deep into Elyssia's family history. There had been some question as to why Robb had offered her in marriage when her status was less than his own, as his family was warden of the Iron Isles while hers was merely located in the Reach, but he'd never expected Balon Greyjoy to dive into her family history.

"His daughter is lost to Dorne, presumably held hostage by the house of Uller, who will probably have her executed, seeing as Doran Martell has no real reason to want her alive. If he does not bargain for her release, no one else will. She has seemingly cut ties with Robb Stark, she tarnished her standing with our own house by fleeing betrothal with you, and Mace Tyrell may see fit to conquer Elderbridge and place one of his own ilk on its seat rather than rescue its heir. But despite the odds stacked against her, Alavane Thorne still fears his daughter to an extent that he would willingly risk his own agreement with the Isles by presenting a forged letter. Perhaps he did not know that you would recognize a letter written in her hand? It is possible he thought that you would not know her well enough to learn to recognize her writing." Balon crossed his hands on his desk, seemingly deep in thought. "It is almost as if he knows something that we do not. Something that Elyssia is capable of that has installed fear in him despite the knowledge that she could very well be facing execution in the near future."

Theon could see his reasoning, but still it had not come to him why his father could possibly desire such information. "If Alavane Thorne is so worried, this unknown ability probably pertains to him alone, rather than on a larger scale. Perhaps it will not effect us"

"At first I agreed" His father nodded. "I had marked it off as his fear that she would reproduce and create a child that could lay claim to his seat before his bastard could. But the child would need to be of noble blood, born under matrimony for it to be recognized as a valid heir of Elyssia Thorne or otherwise brought to the status of true-born by a king. Even should a child be born under those circumstances, it would not be ready for years. Nor would Elyssia be able to propose a marriage that would bring her child any real standing at this stage. She has little influence without being acknowledged as heir to Elderbridge. I have not given her my note of approval as her father's heir, she cannot believe that any claim she has is legitimized by anything but her parentage at this stage."

Though Balon had not given his blessing, he was but one house standing against many. Even with the houses of Thorne and Morray, they would be unable to compete should the northern armies overtake King's Landing, or Robb himself be defeated by the Baratheons. As of yet neither Highgarden or the Vale had declared for either side. Dorne laid in silence, revealing nothing of its views for the rebellious vie for the throne. The Northern Lords stood a chance against the Lannisters and the Crown, but should one side prevail, all of Westeros would be united once more. All but one Warden and two smaller houses struggling against a giant that would crush them.

Theon could easily see the strategy one might use in Elyssia's terms. He knew her well enough that there was no doubt in her mind she would seek the path of least risk. Finding her footing in Dorne would be the first step, followed by digging roots into the nobility there. A strategic marriage could lead to a valid petition to any of the three kings of Westeros to recognize Elyssia Thorne as the rightful heir to Elderbridge. And were that king any other than Balon Greyjoy, that would give perfect reason for whichever lord she married to raise his banners and rise to conquer Elderbridge and place Elyssia on its seat.

"I would not underestimate his paranoia" Theon started, knowing his father was waiting for an answer. "Rumor has spread wide that Elyssia is charming, well-mannered, and exceptionally beautiful. A marriage would not be so out of reach for her, especially if she found claim in her mother's line to keep a hold in Dorne"

"She could technically be named heir to both Starfall and Sandshrine. Tyror Laskley is unmarried and advancing in age. Edric Dayne lost both his wife and only child. Lucine Tarly would reasonably be considered as their heiress, but she is married and has already promised her younger children in marriage to lords of the Reach. As her oldest daughter, Elyssia Thorne certainly has a chance of being heir to either of those holds." Balon nodded, looking down at the family tree in front of him. "I suppose Starfall is an important trade-route in Dorne, probably a stop for ships sailing from Braavos. That may be a valid enough standing for a marriage. Still. I want information on her."

"Why the information, shouldn't we be focusing on our strategy with Lord Thorne against the false kings?" Theon asked.

"We will be. But this Elyssia might be more agreeable than her father. And we'd be rid of Miranda too"


End file.
